The air shimmered around the figure of Poseidon, his smug grin faltering for a fraction of a second. The immense, crushing pressure in the room wavered, like a television signal losing strength.
"You think a parlor trick can fool me, little wolf?" the clone—because that's what it was, a carefully crafted illusion—sneered, but the voice lacked the bone-deep resonance of the true god.
"I don't need to fool you," I said, my voice steady now. "I just needed to keep you talking."
"Waiting for what, for someone to save you?" He questioned, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"For me," Zephyrus growled from behind.
...
Uhhh
No, but oh well.
"Oh! My son, I thought you were off licking your wounds," the clone said, its voice dripping with condescension. It didn't even turn around, as if Zephyr
